Tell the Dear Fathers community about who you are and what you do?
My name is Dr. Kempton Freeman, but the title that’s the most important to me is father. That’s the role that grounds me, humbles me, and reminds me every day of what really matters. I’m originally from North St. Louis, Missouri, and that humble upbringing shaped everything I am, the way I see life, the way I love, the way I show up, and the way I fight for community. I’m an educator, coach, mentor, author, and community advocate, but at my core I’m just somebody who believes in people, especially young people, and just wants to be in their corner.
I’ve spent over a decade in education, working with students and especially our young men who just need consistent male presence. Somebody to see them. Somebody who believes in them. Somebody to remind them they’re not alone and still hold them accountable when it matters.
I coach football, I work in student success, I mentor, and I created Voices of the Community because I wanted people to have a space where their stories matter, where our culture, our history, and our truth can breathe.
But if you strip all the titles away, Doctor, Coach, Educator, Author, I’m still just me, a trying man who’s been through life, learned some hard lessons, survived some storms, and now tries every day to be a better man and father.
What inspired you to write your memoir, Free: The Costs of Becoming Me?
For a long time, I was carrying my story in pieces, not even realizing how heavy those pieces were. Until I had no choice but to walk into who I needed to become to be a better person. I learned survival before I really learned how to live life. I lost my father young. I experienced trauma, grief, mistakes, love, loss, mental health struggles, survivor’s guilt, faith, fatherhood, education deficits, and triumphs, and eventually, I became Dr. Kempton Reynold Freeman.
And at some point, I had to sit with the truth that all angles of my life are connected. None of it was random. This book became my way of finally saying, this is how I became me.
And the title, Free, is honest; it’s paying homage to my last name. Because people love the idea of freedom, but we don’t always talk about the cost of it. Becoming free meant I had to face things I buried. I had to forgive people. I had to forgive myself. I had to sit in pain I avoided for years. I had to let go of versions of myself I had outgrown but still clung to.
I didn’t write this book because I think my story is more important than anyone else’s. I wrote it because I know I’m not the only one carrying heaviness in silence. And if my story can help somebody feel a little less alone in theirs, then it was worth telling.
How has becoming a father changed how you look at your own childhood and upbringing?
Fatherhood changes the way you see everything.
When my son was born, I didn’t just become a father; I started tapping into my own childhood and didn’t want that for my son. Things I used to think were normal suddenly didn’t feel so normal anymore. Things I used to accept without question started to feel different because now I had to ask myself, would I want my son to go through this? Would I want him to feel this? Would I want this to shape him?
Thoughts like that will make you honest with yourself real quick.
At the same time, fatherhood also softened me in a good way. It helped me see the love that was there growing up, the people who showed up, the people who protected me, the people who poured into me even when life was complicated. So it became both things at once: gratitude and responsibility.
Gratitude for what helped raise me and responsibility to make sure some of the pain stops with me. I appreciate both sides of the coin. My son didn’t cause my healing, but he definitely gave me a deeper reason to do it.
You mention deciding what lessons, love, and habits to carry forward and what to stop with you. What was that process like?
Honestly, it was uncomfortable because not everything I inherited was bad, and not everything I inherited was good. A lot of it is just what we saw, what we absorbed, what we repeated without even realizing it. I learned by observation and participation.
So I had to slow down and really look at myself. Ask myself questions:
- What did I learn about being a man?
- What did I learn about love?
- What did I learn about anger?
- What did I learn about communication?
- What did I learn about silence?
- What did I learn about how to show up for people?
Then I sat with my inner thoughts because I had to make some real decisions about what I wanted to pass on to my son. I kept the things that built me: hard work, loyalty, family, showing up, and taking care of your people.
I then had to be honest about what needed to end with me. The silence had to go. I could no longer just not say things that mattered to me. The emotional suppression had to go. I had to own my feelings and show emotional intelligence. The idea that strength means never breaking had to go. I had to realize that feelings are okay. The habit of pretending I’m okay when I’m not had to go.
In my reality, it’s not a one-time decision. It’s ongoing. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re in a cycle until you catch yourself repeating it. So I’m still learning. Still adjusting. Still growing. Forever trying to better myself.
As an educator and coach, how do you integrate the lessons you’ve learned about fatherhood into your work with young people?
I always tell people this: when I’m working with somebody else’s child, I try to treat them the way I treat my son. It means I’m intentional with them. Because love and accountability are not opposites; they belong together.
Sometimes love looks like encouragement. Sometimes it looks like listening. Sometimes it looks like a correction. And sometimes it looks like telling a young person something they don’t want to hear because you see more in them than they see in themselves.
Fatherhood has made me more patient. It’s taught me that behavior is often communication. It’s taught me that every young person is carrying something you can’t always see on the surface.
So in my work, I try to make sure young people feel seen beyond their mistakes. I hold my athletes accountable because I believe in them, not because I’m against them. And I always want them to understand, your worth is not tied to your performance. Not in football. Not in school. Not in anything. You are bigger than that.
What does breaking cycles mean to you as a father?
Breaking cycles means my son doesn’t have to heal from the same things I had to heal from. It doesn’t mean I’ll be a perfect father. I won’t be. My son will probably grow up one day and say, “Dad, you could’ve done that differently.” And that’s okay. That’s part of life. But what I do want him to know is that the way I loved him was intentional.
Breaking cycles means I say I love you out loud. I apologize when I’m wrong. I talk instead of shutting down. I let my son feel his emotions without making him feel weak for having them. I teach him discipline, responsibility, respect, and accountability, and he does the same for me.
For me, breaking cycles isn’t about rejecting everything from the past. It’s about keeping what helped us survive and building something healthier for the next generation to thrive in.
Who is Kempton Freeman as a Dad?
That’s a good one because I’m a lot of things as a dad. I’m a protector. I’m a teacher. I’m a motivator. I’m a comedian when I need to be. I’m an Uber driver more than I’d like to admit. And yeah, sometimes I’m the annoying dad too. But above all of that, I’m an active and present dad. That is the part that matters to me more than anything.
I want my son to never have to wonder if I’m there. I want him to know I’m always there. I’m going to push him. I’m going to challenge him. I’m going to tell him the truth even when it’s uncomfortable. But I’m also going to tell him “I love you” every day, hug him, celebrate him, laugh with him, and remind him constantly that I’m proud of him.
If I’m speaking truthfully, he’s teaching me too. Because I don’t believe I will never have all the answers. I think I’m supposed to be willing to learn. I say it all the time, I’m not a knower. I’m a learner. Even in fatherhood, I’m still becoming a better father daily.
What is the most important lesson about fatherhood you’ve learned along your journey?
That being present beats perfection every time. My son doesn’t need a perfect father. He needs a present one.
I show up to every recital, track meet, even making breakfast in the morning. I do my best to listen to what he is saying about his feelings, and even when he asks too many questions at once, I attempt to answer them all with care and honesty. I admit when I’m wrong; not perfect, so missteps happen in parenting, but I’m above the apology and real mean apologies when they are wrong. I celebrated him so loudly. I corrected him with love and accountability. I make him feel safe with me; as a father, protecting my son is my number one priority.
Dads, trust me, there will be days you feel like you got it right and days you feel like you missed everything. But the key is to keep showing up anyway.
I lost my father when I was young, so I understand what absence feels like. That’s why I don’t take presence lightly at all. Being there isn’t just a checklist item; for me, it’s intentional.
What kind of legacy are you hoping to create for your children?
For my son, I want a legacy that goes way beyond my name. Degrees, titles, awards, books, all of that is fine. I’m grateful for it. But what I really want is for my son to remember how it felt to be my son.
I want him to say:
- My father loved me
- My father showed up
- My father believed in me
- My father taught me how to work
- My father taught me how to treat people
- My father taught me that strength and vulnerability can exist together
And beyond my son, I hope the young people I’ve coached, mentored, and poured into carry pieces of that same energy forward. Because to me, legacy isn’t just what people say about you when you’re gone. It’s what keeps living in other people because you were here.
How can our community support your work and follow your journey?
Honestly, the biggest thing is just walking with me. My memoir, Free: The Costs of Becoming Me, comes out September 17, 2026, and this book means a lot to me, not because it’s a project, but because it’s a piece of my life and a piece of my healing.
So if you support it, share it. Talk about it. Recommend it to somebody who might need it. Have conversations around it.
Follow my journey through my life, education, coaching, mentoring, and servitude.
